#tougen anki

[ydotome]

Tougen Anki - OP

[vilschnheit]

—PROBLEMS

ft. masumi yodogawa

summary — Masumi is scared of his wife. thats it bro

genre — fluff ig, fem reader, idk bro ts is ass

warnings — uh none i think, (cringe)

drabble, 300 sth words

A/N — brother im only doing this cause there is so little stuff about tougen anki man 😓

Masumi and the others were gathered to discuss the plan to defeat the momotaros.

The conversation was going well except from the fact that everytime Shiki yelled Masumi had to tell him shut up.

Nearing the end of discussion a voice was heard from down the hall. “Masumi i swear to god”.

Everyone turned their heads towards the voice, seeing a girl in her mid twenties, walking quickly to them with an angry expression.

“Oh no..” Kaoru whispered and looked at his captain, who had the face of a deadman as sweat drops were running down his “smiling” face.

You approached the group and glanced at all of them. “oh hi Mudano long time no see!”

“Hello to you too”

“Who are these kids?” Before Mudano could reply Masumi answered “His students”.

You turned to face him and said “i don’t remember talking to you, but i do remember telling you to wash the goddamn dishes.” The students were surprised at the tone of your voice towards the captain.

“uh i forgot” He said looking down. Then shiki went to Kaoru and asked him “who is she?”

“Captain’s wife…”

“WHAT?!” Shiki looked like he saw a ghost, his jaw hanging open while his skin was pale. Kaoru had to shut him up before he said anything else.

“Masumi…i am pretty sure u have ‘forgotten’ your chores 3 times this week!”

“There was a reason-“

“shut up! im not gonna bother with u just go do your mission. Dont u dare die, you will be doing those dishes when u come back.”

“fine.” He said as he saw you walk away from him. He turned around muttering some profanities towards you. “I can hear you!” you yelled and he immediately stopped talking.

The only thing the others could do was watch the scene unfold. You walking away grumbling and Masumi slowly going invisible from the humiliation, while the grin was still plastered on his face.

sorry again for you having to see this for realsies 🫩 kill me already

[miyukisu]

1 | Tougen Anki Dad Headcanons .ᐟ

❤︎ | What are the TouAnki men like as dads? Do they give off girl dad or boy dad energy... maybe both? (oni agency ver.) ╰ feat. mudano naito, masumi yodogawa, kyouya oiranzaka

tags - afab! reader, no y/n, SFW only, wholesome domestic stuff

see also -> kikoku unit ver. | momo ver | more soon...

MEGA MASTERLIST

— Mudano Naito

OBVIOUSLY GIRL DAD ENERGY. NEED I SAY MORE?

Some dads deny being protective over their kids... he does not. He's not loud about it, but he justifies it even though it's overboard sometimes. But then again, the world is a dangerous place (he's not talking about momos... he's actually talking about boys).

He takes milestones and achievements VERY seriously. Other parents keep photo albums with cute photos... but this man keeps a notebook like a fuckin' basketball coach.

He's the kind of dad to start training kids early, especially if he has a little girl. Not just because he wants her to learn how to defend herself, but also to become someone who can take over his role in training other onis to become prepared to fight on the frontlines.

He sits perfectly still even though his daughter/s is/are absolutely going to town with the pigtails, nail polish, sparkly stickers, and lipstick. Does he look like a unicorn farted on his face? Probably. But he doesn't care as long as it makes his girls giggle.

Sure, he has a shit ton of tattoos—he even has blackouts on both arms. But if his kid even hints at wanting one? Nope. No way in hell. There won't even be room for discussion for it.

But, hey, he's the type of dad that might give in with just the right amount of puppy eyes and begging. He's only soft for his kids.

— Masumi Yodogawa

Boy dad. Dad to multiple boys. I can't see him stopping at one or two.

Believe it or not, he's stricter than Mudano. Even the other onis are shocked by the fact.

He's strict not because he believes this will make them stronger or whatever. He has enough pride to believe that his kids have it in them to become powerful regardless of their ability. No, he's just strict because he likes to run a tight ship and he wants them to respect his authority as their father.

That being said, he's allergic to stupidity. That also applies to his kids. He won't be the type to shout or reprimand his kids in a loud way. Why? He doesn't need to. One look from him and his kids know they're in deep shit. You can hear a pin drop with how quiet they get...

Whenever his kids ask him for/about something... his default response would be, "Go ask your mother." His kids may be afraid of him... but he is afraid of YOU. On the totem pole of the household, you sit comfortably at the top and he has ZERO complaints about it.

Since he has a bunch of boys... it's expected that chaos is always right around the corner. Fighting, bickering, taunting—the works. Instead of making them stop, he'll encourage them. "You wanna fight? Go. Fight each other then. Don't stop until the other drops like a fly." Do they keep fighting? Nope. Not a chance.

— Kyouya Oiranzaka

Girl dad! I can see him having twins though—LIKE WOULDN'T THAT BE SO CUTE?

He likes teasing his girls that they, "definitely look like their papa," and his kids would grumble each time. He finds joy in seeing them pout while absolutely looking like him. (His genes are strong, what can I say?)

He's a pretty chill dad. Not really gentle parenting per se... but he lets his kids learn from their own mistakes and guide them on how they can do better next time. He's not the type to hound them or crucify them for every small mishap.

He and his kids DEFINITELY play doctor at home. They have all the doctor's equipment in pastel pink plastic form. In between patients (house pets who unwittingly became patients for play time), he would also teach his kids the value of becoming part of the supporting team in their cause.

While other oni dads train their kids to become formidable fighters, Kyouya makes sure that his kids can take his place in the future too.

Out of all the dads... I think he might be the strictest one when it comes to romance. He obviously knows what men are like and what their intentions might be. And yes, he does cry when his daughter tells him that she has a crush at school.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note i might have to reread the manga or get my ass to watch the anime just so i can confidently write the others again... i feel like i lost touch with their characters... my bad...

[toshinorisbaby]

Naito Mudano. Readers also a teacher at Rasetsu and they both like eachother, they just refuse to admit it. So one day the reader gets her hands on one of his shirts/jackets and kinda keeps it until he finds out.Fluff that turns into smut

A Careful Distance

Naito Mudano/Reader (3.2k words) FANFICTION MASTERLIST [AO3] [Fanfiction.net] [Wattpad]

Summary: At Rasetsu Academy, longing settles in the spaces between what’s said and what’s left unsaid. When you find Naito Mudano’s shirt in the laundry room, it’s the beginning of a confession neither of you can keep buried much longer.

Warnings/Themes: Reader Insert, Soft Dom!Mudano, Shy!Reader, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fluff & Smut, Tenderness, First Time Together, Intimacy, Tender/Gentle Sex, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Creampie, Sexual Tension, Borrowed Clothing, Clothed Masturbation, Nervousness, Unspoken Feelings, Height/Size Difference Kink, Praise Kink, Aftercare, Kissing, Eye Contact, Love Confessions, Canon Compliant.

Notes: You can see the list of characters I will take requests for here.

The corridors of Rasetsu Academy are hushed as a shrine at this hour; every shadow stretched long and watchful, dusk leaking in watery blue through the high windows, pooling in slick reflections on the waxed floors. A storm has been raging steadily for hours, hammering the roof—enough that, when you pause by the laundry room door, you can’t hear your own heartbeat for the rain.

You’re here for towels, nothing more. But as you step inside, something black, soft, and unmistakably not yours catches your eye, carelessly abandoned atop the half-shut dryer.

You recognise it before you even touch it: plain black cotton, clean lines, the faintest crispness of starch at the collar. Naito Mudano’s shirt. The one he wore to this morning’s staff meeting, before vanishing to train the first-years in the rain. You can picture it instantly—damp across his shoulders, moulding to the sharp geometry of him as he moved through drills, his mouth a thin line, eyes scanning for weakness.

He never forgets things. Never. If this is here, it’s because he wants it to be. That's what you tell yourself, anyway, as you run your fingertips over the fabric. It’s still warm from the dryer, holding a trace of clean soap and something indefinably him—rainwater, discipline, the faintest ghost of citrus. You hesitate, glancing at the doorway, and then—unable to help yourself—gather it up, pressing your nose to the collar just once.

It feels like blasphemy, the softest sort.

You mean to leave it folded neatly on the counter, but your hands don’t obey. Instead, you clutch it close and sneak back to your room, guilt and anticipation coiling through you. It sits in your bag through dinner. It sits on your bed through midnight lesson plans. In the early hours of the morning, you slip it over your naked body, the sleeves drooping, the scent of him impossibly vivid. You tell yourself it’s only for tonight.

But by the time the sun claws back through the storm clouds, you’re still wearing it.

You don’t bump into him the next day. Nor the next. Guilt and nerves settle between your ribs, a strange ache every time you spot students giggling outside the staff room. Did he notice? Will he say something? Or worse—will he say nothing at all?

You and Mudano have always orbited each other at a careful distance, colleagues by title but something less definable smouldering quietly beneath. He’s impossibly formal, always direct, but there’s a patience in the way he watches you—an attentiveness that leaves your thoughts frayed and your sentences unfinished. If there’s a line between professional and personal, he’s the one who draws it with razor precision, and the one who flinches most if it’s crossed.

You tell yourself you’re imagining things. That he’s just meticulous, just careful, just… Mudano. But it doesn’t explain the glances that last a second too long, or the moments after meetings when conversation drifts into silence, heavy with all the things neither of you are willing to admit.

It’s a stalemate—him, too stubborn; you, too shy. So the tension lingers, patient as rainclouds, waiting for someone to finally speak.

He catches you one late afternoon, just as you’re leaving your empty classroom, the shirt still folded at the bottom of your bag, your pulse frantic as a trapped sparrow.

Mudano leans in the doorway, posture as unreadable as ever. The dying sunlight cuts across his face, carving shadow into the hollow of his cheek, turning his black eyes molten. He’s in a fresh shirt, blood red tie knotted with mathematical precision, hair still slightly damp from a shower. There’s an ease to his stance that you’ve come to recognise—his guard lowered only the barest fraction, a sign reserved for after-hours.

He looks at you for a moment, then: “You’re hard to find these days.” There’s no reproach in it, only a hint of curiosity, as if he’s searching for your answer between the words. “Busy?”

Your cheeks burn. You shake your head, too quick.

A sudden heat prickles at the back of your neck—not just embarrassment, but the memory of last night rising. Alone in the hush of your room, his shirt over bare skin, too big, swallowing you whole, the scent of him an ache at the back of your throat. Your hands had wandered, quivering beneath borrowed cotton, chasing the shape of him in fabric and air, desperate for something you’d never let yourself name. The shirt had clung to your skin long after, damp with sweat and yearning, a secret pressed close through the rest of the night.

You’re still wearing the echo of it now, the memory raw and electric beneath your clothes, impossible to hide from him.

He pushes off the doorframe, crossing to you in three long, silent steps. The click of his rollerblades is muffled on the carpet. His gaze flicks, just once, to your bag.

“I believe you have something of mine,” he says, not quite a question.

You search his face for any hint of annoyance or amusement, but his expression is as calm as always, his eyes giving nothing away. Still, something in the set of his jaw makes your stomach flutter—does he really know? Or is he only guessing?

“I—” The words stick in your throat, mortifying. There's no point in lying. Not to him. “I was going to return it.”

“Were you?”

His face is all angles in the fading light, but there's something gentle, if you know how to look—something soft around the edges, something that says he’s not angry, only quietly curious. You fumble for the shirt, offering it out with both hands, fingers trembling.

He takes it with a careful, deliberate slowness, his fingertips brushing yours. The contact, simple as it is, steals your breath—a heat that stills every other thought.

“Did you wear it?” he asks, voice low, almost a secret.

You nod, unable to meet his gaze. You’re sure he can hear your heart.

His lips curl at one corner, a smile so faint you could almost call it a trick of the rain-streaked window. “Next time, ask.”

You blink, looking up. He’s watching you with that same inscrutable calm, but his stance has softened at the edges—a silent offer in the way he stands.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I just—I don’t know why I—”

“You do,” he says. “You just don’t want to say it.”

You swallow, nerves knotting. “Do you?”

For a second, you’re sure he’ll deflect. Instead, he reaches out, tugs you a fraction closer by the sleeve. His touch is sure, but there’s a hesitation there too—an unspoken question. Your mind goes blank with wanting. You don’t trust yourself to speak—only to close the distance and hope he can’t feel how much you're shaking.

You let your forehead rest against his chest, the steady thump of his heart beneath crisp black cotton. Up close, the warmth of him surrounds you, and you draw in a deep breath, finally catching his scent unfiltered—deeper, alive and impossible to fake. Nothing like the faded memory from his discarded shirt. It fills your lungs, dizzying, and for a moment, you’re not sure where you end, and he begins.

He lets out a slow, careful exhale, and his hand comes up, settling between your shoulder blades. You linger there, savouring his body heat, the realness of his presence.

After a moment, you tip your head up, searching his face. He meets your gaze, and in that long, unguarded silence, everything you’ve been dancing around passes between you—longing, nerves, the hungry ache of something finally, quietly breaking open. There’s no need for words. It’s all there, in the way his dark eyes soften around the edges, the smallest tilt of his mouth, the way neither of you steps back.

When he takes your hand and heads down the hallway, you follow him without thinking, heart in your throat.

His dorm room is neat, almost spartan. Rain beads the windows, thunder rolling distant and slow. He sets the shirt on the back of his chair, then bends to unstrap his rollerblades, slipping them off with efficient, practised motions before setting them neatly by the door. Only then does he straighten and turn to face you, his features schooled to stillness, as if he’s weighing every word that might come next.

“You’re nervous,” he says, voice soft now, almost intimate.

You nod, lost for words, unsure whether to move closer or stay where you are. He steps forward, careful, closing the distance with quiet intent. His hands find your waist, feather-light, waiting.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, his thumb stroking a gentle arc where it's settled, grounding you.

You swallow hard, pulse thrumming in your throat. Your mind is suddenly a blur of images: his hands on your skin, his mouth trailing slow heat along your neck, the press of his body against yours in this quiet, rain-wrapped room. It’s too much, all at once—too much wanting, too much opportunity, and you can barely catch your breath.

Your voice is soft, unsteady, but you force the words out anyway. “I… I want you. I want—” You break off, biting your lip, cheeks burning. But he doesn’t look away, and you find the courage to meet his eyes. “I want you to touch me,” you finish, almost a whisper.

His hands glide up your sides, tracing the line of your ribs. He studies you, searching your face for doubt. Whatever he finds there, it reassures him—he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead, then your cheek, then, achingly slow, your mouth.

His kisses are measured, hesitant at first. You’re acutely aware of every brush of his thumb, every shift of his weight, how easy it would be to lose yourself in the breadth of him. He towers over you—tall and impossibly solid—so that when he gathers you closer, you feel surrounded, sheltered.

Something in you sparks—desire flaring into boldness. Your hands find their way beneath his shirt, fingertips gliding along the hard planes of his stomach, feeling the play of muscle beneath smooth skin. He makes a low sound against your mouth, approving, and deepens the kiss—his tongue sweeping into your mouth, slow and sure, tasting, claiming.

For a dizzy moment, you surrender to it—his body pressing you gently back, his hands bracketing your hips, the room shrinking to heat and the sound of rain and the impossible closeness of him.

When you finally pull away for breath, your eye catches on something unexpected—tattoos, bold against pale skin, revealed just above the waist of his trousers. Your fingers linger there, curiosity winning out, tracing the shapes as you look up at him.

He sees you looking. For a heartbeat, his composure falters.

“I... didn't know you had these,” you murmur, tentative.

He glances down, mouth twitching. “Not finished. I add to them… when necessary.”

“When someone...” You can’t bring yourself to say it. The moment feels too tender to let grief in.

A long silence. His gaze is distant, but not cold. “It’s... a reminder. That’s all.”

You run your fingertips over the black shapes, gentle. He lets you, watching with a strange, open vulnerability. Then, softly, he tugs you in, guiding your hand further up his chest—where the tattoo vanishes beneath his shirt.

“Come here,” he murmurs, voice a touch lower, command threaded with comfort.

He leads you to his bunk and undresses you with reverence, as if each button is something sacred. His hands are steady, but his breath hitches when you touch bare skin—each new inch revealed a study in contrasts: ink and scars, strength and trembling restraint.

You’re nervous, shy, but he is impossibly patient—guiding, never pushing. When you falter, he whispers encouragement, his mouth at your ear, voice a low rumble: “You’re beautiful. Let me take care of you.”

He lays you back against the sheets, and suddenly nothing exists beyond this narrow bed; the heat radiating from his skin, the sound of his breath mingling with yours. Naito’s touch is careful but commanding, palms warm and certain as he trails them down your sides, skimming the soft dip of your waist, the quiver in your thighs. He kisses you again—deeper this time, coaxing your lips apart, swallowing every trembling breath.

When he pulls away, it’s only to map a path down your body with his mouth: your throat, your collarbone, the flutter of your pulse. He’s thorough, deliberate, hands bracing your hips as he presses wet, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach. When he reaches the edge of you—where your need burns the brightest—he pauses just long enough to meet your eyes.

“I’ve thought about this more than I should,” he murmurs, eyes burning with want. “So stay still. Let me.”

And then he’s everywhere—tongue, lips, the press of his hands holding you open, keeping you grounded. His mouth is both devoted and relentless, his tongue slow at first, coaxing gasps from your lips, then firmer as you arch and writhe beneath him. He watches you the entire time—hungry, focused, savouring every sound you make, every tremor. When you start to shudder, he only holds you steadier, mouth never leaving you, until the tension you’ve held for months—years—tears free inside you, leaving you gasping, hollowed out and whole all at once.

He doesn’t stop, not until you’ve shattered and stilled and caught your breath, boneless and shivering with the aftershocks. Only then does he rise, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, quietly satisfied. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, letting you settle beneath his weight, sheltered and spent.

You can feel the hard length of him against your thigh—undeniable, insistent, the ache of his own wanting barely contained. A desperate need claws through you; you want him, all of him, now. You try to say something—how good he made you feel, how you never want this to end—but the words tangle uselessly in your mouth.

He doesn’t give you the chance to find them. His lips find yours again, wild now, and you taste yourself on his tongue, hot and bitter. His hand fumbles at his shirt buttons—uncharacteristically rough—every movement betraying just how tightly he’s held himself in check. He breaks the kiss only long enough to pull his shirt open, breath ragged against your skin, before he claims your mouth again, and you arch up, reaching for him, needy for the heat and weight of him, finally, finally pressing into you.

He shoves his trousers down just far enough, freeing himself, and you whine at the sudden heat of him—huge and flushed, pressing against the slick ache of your centre. For a breathless moment, he pauses, head bowed, letting the head of his cock slide through your wetness, staking his place.

Then he looks up, locking onto your gaze—eyes dark, voice rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “Look at me,” he murmurs, his hips just barely held in check. “I want to remember the look on your face...”

You do.

He pushes forward, patient but unyielding, the thick heat of him stretching you open, and for a dizzying second, you can’t think, can’t breathe—can only cling to his shoulders and let the feeling crash over you. It’s too much and not enough, every inch sinking deeper until he’s fully sheathed inside you, the fullness of him stealing the last of your breath.

You’ve imagined this for so long, craved it in quiet, aching moments, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality—how completely he fills you, how perfectly your body yields for him, how the world seems to vanish as he settles his weight over you. You melt beneath him, every muscle going liquid, every thought dissolving into need. He holds still for a heartbeat, eyes locked on yours, committing every detail to memory—your parted lips, the tremor in your voice, the way you shudder around him, already so close to falling apart again.

He takes you apart with exquisite care, rocking into you with a rhythm as steady as the rain against the glass. Each thrust sends a jolt through your body—controlled and so deep you feel yourself unravelling around him.

You barely have time to brace yourself; it’s overwhelming, the friction and fullness, the look in his eyes, the soft grunts against your neck, the weight of how long you've been yearning. You shatter almost instantly. Your body clenches around him, pleasure crashing over you so hard you can only gasp his name, your body catching fire in a dozen places at once.

He doesn’t falter, doesn’t let you go—his hands find yours, fingers entwined, anchoring you as the sensation rips through you in waves. He watches every flicker of your expression, breath coming harsh as he chases your release with his own, still in perfect control until the very last second.

You feel him throb inside you, his movements turning ragged. His grip tightens on your hands, knuckles white, and his eyes never leave yours. You watch the strain etched across his face—the way his mouth falls open, the tremor in his jaw as he finally lets go.

“God, you feel…” he groans, voice raw and rough, the rest lost in a broken gasp as he buries himself deep and spills into you. The heat of it floods you, sending a fresh shock through your body; you arch up to meet him, the sounds he makes resonating deep within your core.

Then, you’re both suspended in the aftermath—his body heavy and shaking over yours, breath mingling, sweat and rain and relief tangling in the air between you. He stays there for a moment, propped on his hands, his face so close you can see the wet shine at the edges of his lashes. He leans down and kisses you again—slow, lingering, with none of the urgency from before. It’s softer, impossibly tender, as if he’s telling you something in a language only your bodies understand.

When he finally pulls back, you find your voice, your fingers tracing lazy shapes along his jaw.

“I’ve wanted this...” You whisper, almost laughing at yourself for how small and true the words sound. “I think I’ve wanted you since the first week.”

His lips twitch into something like a smile, rare and unguarded. “You’re not the only one,” he murmurs. “I kept hoping you’d want me back.”

He shifts, rolling to your side, and pulls you close, tucking you beneath his chin. You listen to the rain together, breath evening out, all of those nerves dissolving into something sweeter—trust, and the new, unshakable knowledge that this complicated, stubborn man will hold you through whatever comes next.

Not just as your colleague. Not just as your protector. But as the man who left his shirt behind, and hoped—just a little—that you’d find it.

[babachira]

when the students ask if you're seeing a certain somebody, you love to give them more than the truth. (slight manga spoilers and could potentially be a little ooc..)

mudano naito x reader

── ⟢

+ it's canon that mudano will probably focus more on the war than someone. i mean, it makes sense because what's the point of settling in when there's the risk of losing them too.

+ and the students, shiki especially, are sure that he's never going to get married. he has the looks─don't know about the attitude, but they're absolutely convinced that mudano naito is going to remain single for the rest of his life. or at least, until the war between the oni and momo is over.

+ so, it was absolute chaos when the students found out that mudano naito was, in fact, not single.

+ "sit down. i have no obligation to tell you anything," mudano says sternly. he has his arms crossed and he's stood behind his desk. everyone is practically buzzing in their seats after catching him with their training teacher, (name), in the corridor. they were standing very close to each other─enough to suspect that they were definitely more than friends. and it's funny that the mudano naito got caught by no other than yusurube jyuji, who'd sprinted back to the classroom and announced that he saw two adults making love in the hallway─that was not what you were doing, but he obviously had a tendency to exaggerate his observations.

+ to be honest, it's mainly yusurube and shiki who are most interested. byobugaura is happy for you, kuina couldn't care less, rokuro's trembling, yaoroshi has the most bored expression and kougasaki is, and very rightly-so, minding his own business.

+ "muda-sen!" shiki exclaims, his hand shooting up. he has a wide grin on his face along with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "come on! you're really not going to tell us what you've got going on with (name)-sensei?!"

+ "no, i'm not," mudano snaps. "stop talking before i make her give you a hundred more laps around the field."

+ but before shiki can open his mouth to protest, the classroom door slides open and you walk in, a folder in one hand and a drink in the other.

+ "extra laps?" you question. you hand the folders over to mudano, who puts it on the desk. "shiki?"

+ "yes," he replies. "add a hundred to his next training lesson."

+ shiki squawks. "i didn't even do anything!"

+ "that's no fun," you laugh, resting your arm on mudano's shoulder. he makes no effort to move, but he feels the eyes of every student on him, or more precisely, your hand. "shiki, i'll cut the hundred if you buy me my favourite drink."

+ "what?! how can you ask a student that?! i don't have money!"

+ your lips curve. "naito, i think a hundred is too little for him."

+ you're a full-time instructor at rasetsu academy along with mudano and kyouya. while the former is the homeroom teacher and the latter is the infirmary doctor, you take charge over the students' training.

+ having graduated the same year as them, you've grown to become a well-respected oni with a huge capacity of blood in your body. after years and years of gruelling training, you found your specialty in defence, forming blood walls that serve as shields against the momotarou's attacks. many oni have survived thanks to your ability.

+ everyday, you're tasked with overlooking everyone's blood control, making sure none of them go berserk. the whole mikado disaster was only two weeks ago, so you had to supervise shiki for a short while after kyouya had healed him, but luckily, he appeared to be ok.

+ and just as you're about to tell mudano something, shiki, always the energetic one, bursts out cackling. "(name)-sensei! muda-sen won't tell us what you've got going on!"

+ it's like he's singing, you think, as shiki's face morphs into a snarky smile. you truly wonder what goes on in his head, but from experience and also common sense, it's kind of . . . wise to avoid that question at all costs. whenever you bring up the topic of the young ichinose to mudano, he only sighs and tells you to forget about it.

+ you sneak a look at mudano and he has his same neutral expression, but you know better. that tiny tiny crease between his brows, the second-long jaw clench and the hands in the pockets. the students definitely miss it, but you don't.

+ mudano never says that he doesn't want the students to know about your relationship. not specifically. he doesn't really show it in the first place. whatever you do is always behind closed doors, completely locked away from the eyes of nosy people. it's mostly in the comfort of his home, but even these situations are fairly rare because of your merciless schedules.

+ there was one time where byobugaura had shyly asked if you were seeing anyone because she could not believe that someone as lovely as you was a single pringle. all you did was confirm her question, but you didn't go further than that.

+ you squeeze mudano's shoulder and muster the most emotional, saddest tone you can make. you shake your head to add a touch of dramatic flair. "our dorms were separated, so he always snuck into my room at the dead of night just to give me some flowers."

+ mudano's silent, so you take this as your sign to continue.

+ "he'd cook for me everyday, feed me, read me a book, sing me a lullaby and even smile for me." you raise your head. "i got the mudano naito smiling privilege, you guys."

+ mudano's still silent.

+ "and lastly," you say, trying to push down the huge guffaw about to erupt from your throat, "he asked about being parents─"

+ "i did no such thing," mudano finally interrupts, his eyes flickering towards you. "why are you lying?"

+ "they're not all a lie," you beam, looking back at everybody, who now all seem quite engrossed in your doo-doo story. "i'll tell you which song he sang for me─"

+ "i don't sing," mudano says, his voice growing more dull by the second. "stop feeding them false images of me."

+ "hey, muda-sen," shiki sings. "i didn't think you were the romantic type."

+ and before you can embarrass him any further, he kicks you out of the classroom, insisting that he has something to talk to them about. with a laugh, you leave and make your way towards the staff room to get yourself a drink. your lessons are in a few hours anyway.

─

+ you're sitting on a stool with your back against the wall, going through new training regimes for the next few weeks, until you hear the door swing open and the smooth sound of roller skates gliding across the floor.

+ "finished with class?" you ask, not looking up from your sheets. "did they manage to calm down after my awesome stories?"

+ "to be frank, no, they didn't," mudano answers.

+ "same time tomorrow?"

+ he lightly huffs. "absolutely not."

+ he peers down to see what you're reading before he moves to stand behind you to get a clearer look. "what's this? training?"

+ you flip it over so that all the students' data are shown. "yeah, gotta make sure it's all correct before i actually teach it." you set them down and sit up straight, stretching your arms out wide. "they should all be good, though."

+ you're still stretching as you slowly rise to your feet, and with a huge sigh of relief, you turn around. "hello, there."

+ "you made me look like an idiot," he says, but none of those words are mixed with anger, it only makes a small laugh flow out of your mouth as your raise your hands to trace the two lines on his cheek.

+ "yeah, well, like i said, they're not all a lie," you reply, your thumb gently swiping right under his eyes, making him squint just a little. "you did smile for me."

+ "i don't remember."

+ "rude," you sigh. "you did. a very dashing one too."

+ you can't see it, but you're sure mudano's hands are hovering around your waist as you can feel the lightest touches from the tips of his fingers. he's hardly direct, hardly rough, but he has his subtle ways of love that no one else will ever get to pry out of him. he stays still as you gradually lean into him and it's when your chest touches his that his grip on your waist is now there.

+ "should i tell them about this tomorrow?" you ask. "i can say that i have mudano naito hugging privileges too."

+ "enough of that," he says, but his actions say otherwise. he holds you a little tighter and there are things, scenarios, questions and hope spinning through his brain that he wishes can turn into a reality one day.

(i dont know what this is but mudano food)

[kurotenshiyumi]

Them taking care of their s/o with period cramps…

Just some Tougen Anki men taking care of their love while she’s on her period. Enjoy in this time of the month.

Also, mentions of pain, blood I guess, and rude language and tiny bit of violence for Ousuke and masumi and I’m not sure if I have every name right, english is not my first language so please ignore possible mistakes, thx.

Characters: Shiki, Jin, Mudano, Kyouya, Mikado, Ousuke, Tsukiyomi, Masumi, Kaoru

Shiki

I’m almost 100% sure that he has no clue what a period is or how to take care of it. So when you suffer from it he will notice that you don’t feel well but he’ll think that you’re injured or sick. So he will ask blunt, possibly in front of others why you’re holding one hand on your lower belly and why you’re hissing when sitting down or walking a bit to fast. The others will immediately grab him and give him a little talk about… well, female stuff and tell, shout, him to not ask something in front of others. When he returns he apologize shyly and blushed, while you laugh and tell him it’s alright. He will ask you what he should do to help you and if it’s really that painful. He will not notice on his own but he will definitely do whatever you ask him. Water? He brings it! Sweets? He has them already and hands you your favorites! Just cuddles? Oh he will smile brighter than the sun when you ask for that, trust me.

Jin

He will definitely notice. Every little change in your movement of any sign of pain on your pretty face, he will notice them all. He’s a smart boy, he knows what’s going on. So if you two are alone he will ask you softly what you need and if he should go grab something for you. I’m front of others he will be more discreet, he will hand you water all the time, makes sure that your eat enough even if you insist that you’re not hungry and even give you his dessert. (That’s true love everybody) And don’t think that he hesitates to kick shiki out of their room (poor baby) so you can cuddle with him till you sleep cause without jin you just can’t rest properly.

Mikado

Another baby who will give you the world. Like jin he notice immediately and knows what you’re going through. He will tell you softly but firm to rest till it’s over. He will literally do everything for you. Doing the laundry, cooking for you, cleaning, everything. He’s not overprotective, but he can’t bear to see you in pain. So he will do what he can to help you feel better. I totally see him to wrap you into blankets like a burrito and cuddle you on the sofa, watching all your favorite shows while feeding you snacks and pet your hair till you fall asleep on him with. If you feeling really weak he will happily carry you around, princess treatment all the way.

Mudano

We know that this man loves efficiency. So he would love it if you just say what you need. He knows well that every period is different and so everyone needs something else. So he will ask or appreciate when you tell him what your needs are. Do you need rest or does workout helps you? Do you need painkillers? Which ones? You use pads or tampons? A period cup? He wants to know what he has to buy and give to you if you need something. It will be embarrassing to have that talk while he has this stoic face. But the moment you answered all his questions he will be the best period caretaker you could wish for. He knows your cycle, which days are the worst and how you’re feeling on which day. Expect to get scolded from time to time. He knows exactly how much you drink, eat and sleep. And if it’s not healthy enough… we’ll he will scold you like one of his students.

Kyouya

Oh, he will be like a puppy. A concerned puppy. As a doctor he knows more than you. And that’s not the best thing. You have more pain than usual?! Maybe it’s something serious! There plenty of things that could be wrong! And he will tell you every single one while he runs in panic to get you checked. He will take care of you, for sure. But from a doctors view. You crave sweets? Well you know, sugar is actually not good for that. So he will cook you a healthy meal and feed you smiling while he educate you what thinks you should do while you’re on your period. Trust me, you wanna hit him more than one time a day, cause he thinks he knows your body and needs better than you (what is actually not wrong). But when he give you this puppy eyes and this little pouting you just can’t be mad at him. And he will absolutely take the opportunity of your period as an excuse to ditch work.

Ousuke

So, I don’t see ousuke as a dumb guy, but just don’t think that he has much interest on such topic. So he probably has no clue, like shiki, what’s going on. So, if you wanna stay in bed instead of going to work he will just kick you out and tell you, stop being lazy. He will push your mood to the edge before 7 a.m. trust me. You will beat, or at least try, the shit out of him. He sees it as a challenge. He likes to make you mad and while your on your period it’s much easier. Tsukiyomi will tell him when he notice. But all he hears is that you’re easier getting mad so he will make you as angry as possible to get a good challenge. He will not take care of you like the others, but you can do a game out of it. Maybe you will give him a good battle if he takes care of you. Oh, he will accept that. But he still teases you. He makes you a hot water bottle, yes. But he will throw it to you. Of course he will buy you sweets. And eat the half himself. Everything for you and the challenge.

Tsukiyomi

He will take care of you. But it depends on your horoscope. He will absolutely give you this lucky items. Even if it’s something large, he insists that you hold it near you the whole day. Oh, it brings luck if you run around the whole town at least 10 times? What are you waiting for? He’s ready! But besides that he takes good care of you. He makes sure you eat properly, sleep enough and he will deal great with mood swings. I see him as a huge simp for his darling, so everything you want, you get it! You could literal throw something at him or get angry over something meaningless. He would totally agree with you, smile lovely at you and cheers you up with some treats. If you really, really want he even stays home with you. His horoscope says bad luck anyway so why no spend the day with you?

Masumi

Another meanie. Don’t get me wrong. He will take care of you. He knows what to do and don’t want to see you suffer. But like mudano he will scold you. Most of time. You can’t sleep and want to cuddle? It’s because you slept the whole day dumbass, of course you can’t sleep. He will cuddle you but scold you the whole time. Everytime you deny food or water he will click his tongue and stare you down. Oh, so you don’t want to eat? Or drink? Well okay, than he just has to make you sit here to whole day till you finally give in. And don’t even try to work. He will tie you up and put you back to bed. He will absolutely not take the risk to getting you hurt or worse just because you thought you could work in your state. The type that throws water bottles or snacks at your direction. He knows your body well. He knows the times he needs to be more careful with you. So if you feeling really bad, he will not scold you or anything. He will just cuddle you, rub your lower belly and tells you what a bitch your period is.

Kaoru

My baby!!! He’s sich a sweetheart. He will take care of you so softly. Makes you breakfast and makes sure you use a heating pad. If you’re working at the bookstore with him he gives you just easy work and asks you from time to time if you need a break. Will bring you tea over the day so that you have to take a break. He loves cuddling with you. Holding you safe and warm, while he pets your hair and rubs your back. If your cramps are bad he will hold your hand softly and just talks to you. He loves reading for you. Especially at night when you struggle to sleep, he will hold you on his chest so you hear his heartbeat and just read to you with his soft voice till you doze off. If you want something, just ask him. Like mikado, he will take care of anything, even if he’s busy. He will cook for you and cleans. But if you wanna do something he will let you, but he will help you. Just to be sure that you’re really okay.

[renokawa]

wife on a mission

you're away on a mission and they're asked if they miss you

feat. mudano naito oiranzaka kyoya yodogawa masumi requested!

─ mudano naito

mudano slides into the staff room, letting the door swing shut in kyoya's face, who whines that it almost snapped his pretty nose off. he comes waltzing into the room a second later and slumps down in a chair opposite to where mudano stands.

"dannochi!" he sings.

"no."

"woah, hey, i didn't even say anything! yet!"

silently, mudano picks a thick book off the shelf and flips it open, turning a deaf ear on kyoya.

"have you heard back from (name)?"

your name causes mudano's fingers to twitch, but after a short pause, he simply continues reading again, letting kyoya's question fade into the air.

"she'll be fine," he replies, briefly eyeing the ring on his left finger before returning to the page. "she's not incapable."

"well, obviously, i know that," kyoya chuckles. he rests his chin on his palm and leans forward, quietly watching his friend. "you seem pretty down that she's not here, though."

"that's nonsense."

"yeah?" kyoya snorts. he casts a glance outside the window and snickers at how the students are sprawled out across the field, their bodies bruised all over from mudano's insane training. "you gave the kids two extra hours when you found out that she's not back for another day."

mudano's tone is unsurprisingly flat. "i didn't."

"you did!"

"i didn't."

"hey, you don't have to be so shy about missing your wife! all men do!"

silence fills the room as mudano doesn't answer, causing kyoya's laugh to spread across the walls. it simmers to a stop when he realises that mudano is making no effort to accept even a speck of his joy.

yet kyoya knows his friend all too well. his face may be turned away from him, but he can tell just by the slight shift in mudano's posture that he's staring at the promise ring he shares with you. he's sure that despite his cool composure as a former elite and teacher, all sorts of worst-case scenarios are flashing through his mind, especially when he knows the danger that comes with your mission. losing a person isn't something foreign to either of them, but perhaps as a former officer of the combat unit, his method of coping is far different to a medical oni.

when mudano finally turns around, a smirk slips onto kyoya's face upon noticing the tiny tiny spark in his friend's eyes. it's a little hidden under the dim light of the room, but from the tilted angle of mudano's head, it's definitely there.

"a mission is a mission," he says calmly, which takes kyoya by surprise, "and i can't predict anything, but she's always been one of the strongest. she'll be fine."

it goes without saying that kyoya is beyond proud of his married friend, someone he never thought would ever tie the knot with anyone, especially not in this life. he still remembers the pure horror on his own face when mudano announced his quiet marriage, but honestly, having known you since rasetsu too, kyoya admits he’s never seen a more perfect pair.

he shoots up from his seat and claps a hand down on mudano’s shoulder, ignoring the dark warning glint in his stare.

"i'm so happy to be your best man, dannochi," he rambles, turning a blind eye to the stoic expression that drills into his skull. "i'm even happier that you have a wonderful wife! why don't you help me find mine?"

mudano doesn't blink. "no."

"seriously? aw, c'mon, we could have double dates! you, (name), me and my future lady!"

"get a wife first."

kyoya gasps. "does that mean you agree to the double date?"

"no."

─ oiranzaka kyoya

leaning against a wall in the classroom, a trickle of laughter flows out of kyoya's mouth as he types away on his phone. not only does he have that irritating texting sound all the way up on full volume, his giggles grow louder too as he pauses to read the messages. it's a repeated cycle of tap, pause, tap, pause, and it's been like this for the past ten minutes.

to his right, shiki─who's on cleanup duty after class─lets out a wild groan when the sound of kyoya's never-ending snickers trigger an irk point in his brain. clearly, he's had enough when he whirls around with a broom in his hands, his scrunched up face contorted with nothing but pure rage.

"can you shut up already!" he screams, causing kyoya to lift his amused gaze, "this is the millionth time you went 'oooh', 'ahhh', 'hahaha' at your phone and it's pissing me off!"

kyoya turns his phone off with a grin. "ah, sorry. i get too carried away when i'm messaging people."

shiki grumbles. he pulls a chair back and begins sweeping the spot under the desk. "weirdo, who're you even talking to that's got you so giddy like that?"

"my wife!"

the broom clatters to the floor and tumbles down the steps until it bumps against kyoya's feet. he bends down to pick it up before propping it against the board.

a deafening howl shoots throughout the classroom.

"YOUR WHAT?!"

kyoya smiles. "my beautiful, beautiful and beautiful wife. here! lemme show you pictures of her! she's more gorgeous than everybody in the world combined."

shiki wastes no time in jumping over the desks to take a look at who on this earth would be so out of their mind to marry someone like kyoya, but once he sees the folder full of just you, he can't help but agree that you are, indeed, very pretty.

an admiring sigh rumbles in kyoya's chest as he swipes through all sorts of pictures─couples selfies, sleeping ones of you or even you at work. some of them shiki thinks kyoya is practically lovesick, but others he admits are kind of cute.

"she and i met in rasetsu," kyoya reminisces fondly. "obviously, she fancied me first and i just had to say yes."

"yeah, right," shiki scoffs. he zooms in one of the more recent images. "is she here now?"

"she's on a mission at the moment. all the way in nerima with massu!" kyoya chirps, but his face is clouded with a huge pout right after he says so. "i miss her so much."

"you look creepy like that," shiki says, slowly inching away. "are you sure she married you because she wanted to?"

"hey, now, you won't understand because you haven't found your lover yet," kyoya teases, but he laughs all the same. "just wait until you do. you'll get it."

suddenly, before either of them can continue the conversation, the door to the classroom rips open and standing in the doorway is none other than mudano naito, who has his iconic unreadable expression plastered on his face.

shiki bounces over to his homeroom teacher. "muda-sen! this guy has a wife! is it true?!"

"yes and they're both crazy. clean the classroom in five minutes otherwise you get no dinner."

─ yodogawa masumi

apart from masumi and kaoru, the tougen bookstore stays rather empty during the week. there's the occasional oni customer that comes and goes during the late evening, but apart from that, it stays relatively silent.

kaoru wipes the shelves with a towel whilst masumi flicks through a file containing information received from you. it had arrived in the post just this morning and as soon as he saw your code name written in the corner, he'd never opened something so quick.

stepping down from the ladder, kaoru wipes his hands on a clean cloth and walks over to his captain, who's hunched over the thick booklet of information.

"is that from (name)-san?" kaoru asks.

masumi holds the file in his hands, his eyes scanning each and every word printed on the paper. "yeah. it came in at dawn."

"oh, wow. that's incredibly impressive."

the sound of paper being flipped over rustles through the empty bookstore, but it comes to a gradual stop when masumi reaches the final page. whether it's for the convenience of the mission or the fact that you know how masumi hates long-winded things, you helpfully compiled all the information into one succinct document. it didn't take long to check the entire thing and before masumi can realise, he lets out a low whistle when he turns the file back to the start.

"we've got a lot of good stuff here," masumi states, tapping the paper. he looks back at the envelope it came in, his eyes subconsciously following the black ink of your name. "if we wait for the next set of documents to come through, we can start moving quicker than we expected."

kaoru nods, folding his arms behind his back. "it was the best choice to send (name)-san on this mission, right, captain?"

"clearly. she's one of the best ones we have here."

it's a secret to the entire nerima ward that yodogawa masumi is a married man. the only people who know are his two rasetsu peers and his vice-captain. he doesn't have a single problem with marriage as many of his men are in a happy relationship. it's not that he's worried about the opinions of others, but it could jeopardise the chain of command ─ something masumi can't be bothered to deal with.

"i've never seen two abilities that sync so well together," kaoru brings up, which causes masumi to look at him. "your invisibility and her teleportation are vital abilities."

masumi tilts his head. "don't just simplify it down to our abilities. we worked until we were staring down the edge of death. you have no idea what (name)'s gone through because of blood overuse."

"of course, captain. i'm not diminishing your efforts at all."

masumi bends down to dig out an older file from a drawer before returning to the one you wrote, but before he can start working, kaoru's question interrupts his focus.

"captain, i hope you don't mind me asking, but do you miss her by any chance?"

without a pause, masumi takes a red pen and unclips the cap. he starts underlining key words in straight lines. "what kind of question is that?"

kaoru hums. "she has been gone for over a week and so i just assumed."

"don't ask such dumb things."

"apologies, captain."

yet from the very subtle way masumi's ringed finger sneaks into his path of vision, kaoru's more than certain you're always on his mind. there's absolutely no way that someone like masumi is capable of loving someone let alone getting married if he didn't mean it. he hates liars, he hates two-faced people and so what would be the point to let a promise leave his lips when he's not going to act on it?

"i just hope you know, captain," kaoru adds, taking a step back to resume dusting the shelves, "that i truly support your relationship with (name)-san. i think you're perfect for each other."

masumi huffs, but his hands never stop moving. "that's exactly why i married her."

[niilue]

⊹NSFW ALPHABET WITH KYOUYA OIRANZAKA⊹ ⎯ TOUGEN ANKI

cw: dom/sub dynamics, dom! reader, switch kyouya, he's a brat a/n; i love dr. kyouya, i desire him carnally ughhhh

⛧ a = aftercare (what he does/how he acts after sex)

kyouya, even terrified by how much he wants you, turns into pure affection once you’re done. he curls into your arms like that spot was always meant for him, forehead resting on your collarbone while he murmurs soft little jokes just to see if your anger or your intensity has settled. he’ll clean you himself if you allow it, kiss your shoulder, and ask in a sweet, hushed voice if he “did well enough.” he wants to fall asleep pressed against your side.

⛧ b = body part (his favorite body part of him and also yours)

of him: his waist. he knows it’s narrow, flexible, easy for you to grab; he blushes every time your fingers tighten around it. of you: your breasts. he worships them. whenever you allow it, his hands are there cupping, squeezing, kissing, sucking, burying his face between them like he’s starving. he gets hard embarrassingly fast from just touching them.

⛧ c = cum (anything to do with cum basically…)

he cums too easily when his flirty mask breaks. when he’s overstimulated, his legs shake, he lets out a messy, needy little moan, and spills completely uncontrolled. he loves cumming in your hand, or over your stomach, because seeing your skin marked by him leaves him breathless. if you order him to cum on your breats, he falls apart instantly.

⛧ d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory: a dirty secret of him)

he fantasizes about you using him however you want on an infirmary cot, the curtain barely drawn, your hand over his mouth to keep him quiet while you ride him. he’d never admit it… unless you corner him.

⛧ e = experience (how experienced he is? does he know what he's doing?)

he’s experienced, yeah, but he never takes it seriously. he teases, he plays, he pushes until you tame him. then he reveals a startling sensitivity. he learns your body with infuriating speed.

⛧ f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

his favorite position by far is you riding him, full cowgirl, your hips controlling everything. kyouya loses every hint of swagger the moment you straddle him. the second you sink down onto his cock, his breath catches, his fingers dig into the sheets, and his pretty red eyes roll back just a little. he loves the way you use him, your knees planted on either side of his hips, your hands on his chest or pinning his wrists above his head, your pace completely your own. he gets especially weak when you ride him deep, grinding down until he’s buried to the hilt, your heat swallowing every inch of him. the sound he makes when you do that half moan, half broken sigh is shamelessly needy.

⛧ g = goofy (is he more serious or humorous in the moment?)

he starts with soft little jokes, because that’s his shield but once you have him against a wall, your hand on his throat or your fingers in his mouth, all humor disappears. his flirtiness melts and what remains is pure obedient desire.

⛧ h = hair (how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes?)

down below: he keeps himself completely shaved, smooth, clean, obsessively neat. he likes being “easy” for you to touch anywhere you want.

⛧ i = intimacy (how romantic he is/can be before, during and after sex)

kyouya is intimate without noticing. he looks at you like you shine brighter than any light; he touches your hips like it’s a privilege; he holds you after sex like he’s thanking you for existing. during sex, his vulnerability is so raw, he offers his neck, spreads his legs, lets you mark his skin.

⛧ j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he touches himself far more often than he’ll ever admit. always after seeing you and pretending he wasn’t watching you like that. he jerks off fast, quiet, imagining your voice telling him to slow down. he rarely finishes without whispering your name under his breath.

⛧ k = kink (one or more of his kinks)

playful obedience, dirty praise, being pushed against surfaces, your hand gripping his jaw, you telling him exactly how to move. he melts when you call him “pretty boy,” “my boy,” or when you correct him for teasing you too much.

⛧ l = location (favorite place to fuck)

the infirmary. curtains closed. the risk of someone walking in. the smell of disinfectant mixed with your perfume. it turns him on like nothing else.

⛧ m = motivation (what turns him on, gets him going, etc.)

grab him. steady him with force. tell him “enough.” corner him against the desk, your hands on his waist, your mouth at his ear telling him to stop flirting if he doesn’t want to end up on his knees. that completely destroys him.

⛧ n = no (something he wouldn’t do/turn offs)

he doesn’t do cruel humiliation. he can handle teasing, scolding, being put in his place but never anything meant to make him feel meaningless. he also doesn’t enjoy heavy pain; his body responds much better to psychological domination than harsh punishment.

⛧ o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

giving: he’s brilliant. slow, teasing, with that flirty spark in his eyes while his tongue works you, licking you like he wants to make you beg. receiving: shy at first, but when you grab his hair and force his legs open… he sounds divine.

⛧ p = pace (fast and rough? or slow and sensual?)

sensual, rolling, teasing when he’s on top. desperate, fast, obedient when you take control. he loves when you decide the rhythm and he just follows instinct.

⛧ q = quickie (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

he loves them. they excite him. he asks for them without saying it through a look, a hip brush, a wicked smile as he adjusts one of his rings. if you say “come here,” he’s already moving.

⛧ r = risk (is he game to experiment? does he take risks?)

high. he adores medium-risk situations: curtains, half-closed doors, empty hallways. knowing someone could hear him moan turns you on, and because it turns you on, it destroys him.

⛧ s = stamina (how many rounds he can go for and how long does he last)

more stamina than he lets on. he can last two or three rounds easily, especially if you keep him hovering on the edge without letting him finish. when he finally cums, he collapses, panting like you drained the soul out of him.

⛧ t = toy (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or on himself?)

he owns a few small vibrators “just in case.” on him, he likes when you use plugs or cuffs. on you, he’s obsessed with anything you can handle while he watches, biting his lip.

⛧ u = unfair (how much he likes to tease you)

he teases you constantly. “innocent” touches, dirty comments, fingers sliding up your back when no one else is looking. then when you drag him into a bathroom or slam him against a wall, he laughs breathlessly: “what? i barely touched you…”

⛧ v = volume (how loud he is and what sounds he makes)

medium-high. he moans beautifully, soft, breathy, with that husky edge he gets when he’s too turned on. right before he cums, his voice cracks and he calls you by whatever title or name you give him.

⛧ w = wild card (random headcanon)

when he’s deeply turned on, his rings bother him, so he slips them off one by one into your palm, like a quiet offering, while never taking his eyes off your mouth.

⛧ x = x-ray (what’s going on in those pants?)

long, slim, slightly curved upward, with hypersensitive skin at the tip. he gets hard fast, pulses intensely when you grip the base, and trembles when you touch him with just two fingers.

⛧ y = yearning (how high is his sex drive)

extremely high. his calm demeanor hides it, but his body doesn’t. one authoritative look from you and he’s already preparing himself to be taken.

⛧ z = zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)

he falls asleep fast, but only if you’re touching him. if your hand rests on his waist or in his hair, he’s out in seconds. if not, he stays awake, searching for you with his fingertips until he finds you.